An Englishman, Scotsman and Norwegian tour Scotland

Have you heard the one about the Englishman, the Scotsman and the Norwegian?
They all went to Scotland, by motorbike of course and had a really good time.

It all started with Pete asking, “who fancied a trip to Scotland”, I did. By the way, we live between London and Oxford. Why not have a trip back to my homeland.

As it turned out Pete had a friend coming over from Norway and we would arrange to meet up with Bernhard when he came off the ferry in the docks at Newcastle. Bernhard seems to have a number of bikes to choose from, though all seem to be BMW’s, [but I don’t hold that against him]. Initially it was an R80 then a sidecar outfit and so it turned out to be a BMW K1100 with a Swiss sidecar attached, in a very sexy paint job which flipped from purple to green to gold [think of the fancy paint job on a TVR]. This was an eye catcher everywhere we went. Pete was on his BMW K1000 and I was on my Yamaha FJR 1300.

Anyway we set off on a Sunday in misty damp weather, which improved as we went north and from Peterborough, sunny fine weather all the way. Before that, when I was leading around Bedford I did get slightly confused [I was in fact heading south east] as I could not find the road I was expecting and when we overtook a low loader with a steam engine on it for the second time, within about half an hour, not so good. In the end we reached the A1 and so on up to Yorkshire and arrived at the house just after my friends had returned, you see, I didn’t get lost earlier, I was just adjusting our journey time to synchronise our arrival with their return. That evening with a meal at the local Pub and some Black Sheep Brewery Bitter all was well and set us up for our trip next morning. 

Monday.

Eight o’clock start and heading for Newcastle docks in good and very mild weather to meet the 10.00 am ferry from Norway. If you’ve had the non-stop Dover docks experience then Newcastle will be a surprise, quiet and laid back. Eventually Bernhard and his multi coloured outfit appeared and after a cup of tea, we were off. Heading north on the A1, lots of cameras and generally boring, we should have gone up the A697 or A68 towards Edinburgh.

Not for us the Forth Road Bridge but west and then north to Stirling and a visit to my namesake’s monument. The Wallace monument at Stirling, well signposted, parked up, paid up and walked up the hill to the monument. Certainly it is a really good exhibition on different floors, which allows you recover from the climb up the spiral staircase to the top of the monument. With tremendous views all around it is well worth the effort to get there and its not too busy, I think that some give up before getting up there. Only one way back down, the same spiral staircase. What next, buy the T-shirt of course, then off to Crieff where we were to stay for two nights, at Gavelmore House B&B. We landed on our feet here as we were given the self-catering apartment for our own use, which proved ideal. www.gvelmore.co.uk

Bernhard had his own idea about how to start the evening as he went outside to table in the garden and set out his bottle of Brandy and the glasses. So we were ‘forced’ to have a drink or two, just to prepare our selves for the journey. After all, we still had to find somewhere to eat that night and as it turned out, it was at least a quarter of a mile to the pub. With a couple of pints of 80/- Ale [80 shilling] and a good meal we were well satisfied with our day. I have found out that sharing a room with Pete has exposed me to his extensive repertoire of snoring. I think that the most intriguing one is the sound a supermarket trolley being wheeled over cobbles. How does he do it? Thank god for earplugs.

Tuesday.

Off and away, east along the A85, north on the A822 a great wee country road, up and over the moors. We stopped for a cup of coffee in a isolated café/restaurant, very negative place, with notices, no smoking, no dogs, no mobile phones, no this no that etc. So far no sign of police, then five on bikes all pass at once.

On over the A9 to the A923 and Blairgowrie then left on the A93. This is a great road, quiet and beautiful, through Glen Shee, past the Glen Shee Ski Area and on to Braemar, past the Castle and along the river Dee. Shortly after Balmoral castle turn off on the B976 over the hills to the A939 and over the pass and the Lecht Ski Area on the Cockbridge to Tomintoul road [always the first to be blocked with snow] all the way down to Speybridge and a brief lunch.

Eventually we made our way on to the A9 and on towards Inverness. We had just passed around the Cairngorms, heading east, north and then west. Then off the A9 on to the B851 a small but good road heading south west to the south of but out of sight of Loch Ness. Quiet but although easy to overtake on a bike, a sidecar has more of a problem and although there are signs up asking that people use the passing places to allow overtaking, do they do it, what do you think? By the way the weather, although mild, is damp with occasional drizzle but not a problem, stopped off by a small loch but soon on to Fort Augustus at the bottom end of Loch Ness. Time was getting on and we decided to head for Spean Bridge and a cup of coffee. This takes you along the Caledonian Canal, Loch Oich and Loch Lochy and the coffee shop had just shut, 4.30 pm. Nothing for it but to head back, but still quit a way to go, about 70/80 miles.

The next bit, east on the A86 and on to the A889, lovely route with no villages for about 35 miles or more, to Dalwhinnie and south on the A9, back on the road that we set out on. A long day, over 300miles, but very satisfying.

By now Pete had bought a bottle of Laphroaig, my favourite malt whisky and so another evening started, drinks outside, pub, beer, food and bed.

Wednesday.

Time to move on to Kinlochleven where we were booked into a bunkhouse and what a place it turned out to be. But we still had a whole day to get there and Bernhard was keen/ insistent that we had to do Loch Ness. In fact he had been disappointed that we had not been to Loch Ness the day before. Bite the bullet and straight up the A9 to Inverness but with still some 15/20 miles to go Bernhard indicated that petrol was required, I had been conscious of this, as previously it became clear that a Sidecar outfit uses considerably more fuel than a solo bike.

The first day was probably the worst when Bernhard refilled about £18, Pete about £12 and I filled at about£10. Anyway, there are no filling stations on the A9, you have to go into the Villages that the new road bypasses and there were none with petrol but you could see where the petrol pump symbol had been blanked out on the signs on the last section into Inverness. Sure enough Bernhard ran out of fuel going down the Hill into Inverness and we stopped on the slip road to an industrial estate. Luckily Pete found a filling station round the corner in the industrial estate, just in time to stop Bernhard putting pebbles into his tank, to raise the level of the small amount of fuel in the bottom.

Now for Loch Ness and of course Nessie but no monster was sighted so we had to make do with Souvenirs. In addition all three of us are now UYK bikers and we have the sticker to prove it, a tartan two-fingered hand with the legend ‘Up Your Kilt’, ok, its bit childish but we’re on holiday. I had wanted to stop at the Museum that I remember from many years ago that had on display part of a fin from Nessie but I couldn’t remember where it was [It’s in Drumnadrochit].

The next stop for viewing was at the Commando Memorial at Spean Bridge, which now has a small remembrance space. Further on we stopped at Fort William for a cup of tea. Of course by this time the cafes were shutting for the evening but we found one still open. Still heading southwest now along Loch Linnhe bypassing Ballachulish to head along Loch Leven for Kinlochleven. Great bit of twisty road with tremendous views, helped by the very atmospheric light through the clouds on to Loch Linnhe, it’s islands and the mountains behind. Kinlochleven is now a very quiet backwater since its aluminium works closed down and a bridge replaced the ferry at Ballachulish. Now some of the buildings are a leisure centre with a large climbing wall and Ice Climbing Wall [real ice].,/p>

We were looking for our hostel/bunkhouse and we found it with small camping field along side but no warden. While Pete phoned him we were suddenly attacked, without warning. I had forgotten just how vicious the autumn Highland Midge can be. The other part of the hostel was up the hill, and we were off, with the hope that the midges were all low-level types. No chance, they were there as well, bags collected and into the hostel ASAP. The warden warned us not to open the window, particularly if the light is on, because the midges etc. At least we were able to park right up by the hostel, well off the road but uphill on a very loose surface. No food here, so down to the Hotel for a few beers and a meal and back to the hostel. I have been in many bunkhouses/hostels/climbing huts and I have to say that this one is about bottom of the list. My mattress allowed me to feel the boards it was resting on and the bites on my wrist in the morning were not midge bites. Three of us sharing one small room and Bernhard complaining about our snoring, both of us, can’t believe it, I think he must have dreamt it all.

Thursday.

We were up and out of there in the morning in double quick time [the morning shift of midges were ready and waiting outside] and down to the hotel for breakfast. In the hotel they had seen us ride up and had three places set for us by the time we got in the door, now that was more like it. After breakfast everything looked better and with the weather getting better and better we were off to Glencoe village, filled up and we were off South.

The run through Glencoe is always memorable with wonderful roads and scenery then across Rannoch Moor through Tyndrum and Crianlarich to Ardlui at the head Loch Lomond. Further on near Inverugals we stopped for a coffee, sitting outside by the Loch in the sunshine.

Still onward, south down to the edge of Glasgow and over the river Clyde on the very high Erskine Bridge with long views down the Clyde. We followed the Ayrshire coast road but it was quite built all through Greenoch, where I did have a slightly brown trouser moment when for some reason a motorist decided to pull out straight across two lanes of traffic, phew! It was not all bad, one motorist in a Merc slowed down to allow all three of us to change lane together and the same motorist who was later ahead of me in the inside lane waved at me to slow down, there was a speed camera ahead. Eventually we were able to see the sea, the Firth of Clyde, then through Largs and past Great Cumbrae Island and stop for lunch in a restaurant opposite Arran with its very obvious peaks of Goatfell and Caisteal Abhail.

We continued south on the A78 around Ayr, then off into the countryside on the A713 with a stop to look at the view of Loch Doon. I’m sure that I can remember camping by the loch years ago, my self, my brother, a friend and million midges, happy days. We stopped to check the route, no, Pete stopped to check the route just over a rise and in a staggered crossroads, not the best place, but the road was very quiet. Guess who turned up, yes, the police, ‘”not a good idea to stop here” he said, “yes” I agreed and pointed at Pete. Anyway they were quite all right about it and put us on the correct road. So we finished our run down to Kirkcudbright and found the Royal Hotel. After the hostel this was sheer luxury, wonderful, good hot shower etc and off we go to see the town.

Many of the towns in this part of Scotland are similar with a wide main street and neat stone buildings. Bernhard cast a critical eye over the only two boats in the harbour, kicked the mooring ropes and muttered and wanted to take a picture of the boat resting on the mud and held up only by its moorings. This was quite different from Norway where the tide rise and fall is only about one metre. We found a spot of civilization in a McDonalds Hotel where they served Old Speckled Hen in the bar, best beer we had tasted since we left England. Back to our hotel where we contemplated having a meal, menu looked not to bad, will we, wont we. Got talking to one of the drinkers in the bar and mentioned food, when the barmaid was out of earshot, he immediately told us that he would not eat here, recommended the traditional Scottish Restaurant across the road. We had already considered it and their menu looked good. This drinker also recommended the Tartan beer, both Pete and I agreed, it was one of the worst beers ever.

The restaurant was great with a very good bottled beer from Castle Douglas brewery just a few miles east. This was the real end of the holiday as next day Bernhard was off to Glasgow on business and we were to make the trek home, so that evening finished well with the last of the Laphroaig going down well.

Friday - (by Peter)

I was awake early and took an early morning stroll around Kirkcudbright. On my return Iain was stirring and Bernhard, who had bagged the single room was also showing signs of life. For some reason Bernhard had shown a preference for not sleeping with his chums if at all avoidable, perhaps it’s a Norwegian/Viking thing? Maybe the Fiords are deathly quite at night except for the occasional whale song whereas where we live, landing Jumbo is barely noticed? Three hangdog expressions made their way to the breakfast room for the antidote. An excellent British breakfast involving lots of frying worked wonders, I even had two helpings of Haggis, which was a wonderful treat not often found in my local southern parts. I also noticed that Norwegians don’t eat haggis – strange people!

We headed east towards Dumfries where we separated from Bernhard who went north, whilst Iain and I made for Gretna Green to join the M6 South. Our plan was then to pick up the old A6 and cross Shap Fell. Old recollections told us it was a much better ride than a boring motorway and so it was, although it seems shorter and not as high or as impressive as it used to be. The lack of traffic now, particularly of the heavy variety, which used to grind away for what seemed like hours before you were clear of it, is now long past thank goodness. Through Penrith and on to Kendal, where Mr Bikers old gremlin showed his hand. As we entered the town one-way-system, Iain was close behind but got caught at a set of traffic lights. It was impossible to stop immediately and by the time I could stop, Iain had left the system to rejoin the M6 by the shortest route, whereas I was intent on staying on the A6 for a few more miles before rejoining the motorway. Iain chased off up the wrong road, [Iain, it was doubly wrong as I was so concerned about Pete that I did not notice that the correct road turned off the one I was on, almost immediately. So I ended up heading north to the motorway and lost even more time] I waited for him to appear which of course never happened. Thank goodness for mobile phones! Eventually after an exchange of several messages we managed to meet up again at a service area that was over an hours ride to the south.

Traffic south of Preston quickly became appalling i.e. normal for a Friday afternoon. We pressed on down the M6 to Birmingham, around the M42 to pick up the M40 and then home. We managed to keep up a reasonable pace and the weather held good for the entire journey as it had for the whole week. Later Iain learned that on the other side of the Pennines down the A1/M1 route – our alternative, the weather had been a washout for the whole day, so we were really lucky.

Iain continues-

A great week, the bikes ran without a hitch on some exceptional roads [so long as they have petrol, Iain]. I cannot recall a camera off of the trunk routes (I miss them of course), the traffic was always light away from the industrial bits, leaving us to enjoy the ride and admire the scenery at our leisure. I think next time around we should spend more time on the western side, [should stop more often to absorb the scenery etc, Iain] there looks to be some great loops through wonderful country that we hardly touched, [could easily spend a week or more, remember that we did not go further north than Fort William in the West, Iain].